


My Slate is Clear

by Falln_Grce



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover - Shadowhunters, Hurt Stiles, Independent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Post-Donovan, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Stiles Leaves Beacon Hills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-16 01:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falln_Grce/pseuds/Falln_Grce
Summary: His decision to leave Beacon Hills was the only one on the table at the time. Making it the right decision regardless of who wants to look back at it and say he could have done a better job figuring things out. Beacon Hills was killing him. His home, the only home he had ever known had stopped being a place he called his own. He wasn’t welcome there anymore. So he left.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I refer to this fic in my comment replies as the 'Hindsight' fic. 
> 
> I never could get over how Scott basically turned on Stiles after finding out about Donovan. I started there, and basically ignored the rest of canon in order to follow Stiles' story down a different path. 
> 
> There's going to be a lot of angst, but it should all work out in the end.... well, mostly.

They say hindsight is 20/20. That when you’re looking back at the decisions you made, you can find a better answer than the one you had. Stiles thinks this is mostly bullshit made up by people with neurotic minds and way too much free time on their hands.

 

His decision to leave Beacon Hills was the only one on the table at the time. Making it the right decision regardless of who wants to look back at it and say he could have done a better job figuring things out. Beacon Hills was killing him. His home, the only home he had ever known had stopped being a place he called his own. He wasn’t welcome there anymore. So he left.

 

Most teenagers wonder about this at least once… _Do I belong here?_

 

Stiles didn’t have to wonder, “You’re not part of this Stiles… You’re not Pack. Not really.”

 

Those were the words from his brother. Thanks, Scott.

 

Wait. Let’s back up. It makes more sense to know the whole story. That way, it doesn’t seem strange that Stiles hasn’t set foot in Beacon Hills in over four years. That he hasn’t spoken to his father for even longer. The last time Stiles spoke to his father face-to-face was when the Sheriff was packing a suitcase and telling Stiles he would be staying at the McCalls for _a while._ That Stiles shouldn’t visit for foreseeable future. The bills would be paid each month, money would be put in his account. Just stay away for now.

 

Well, maybe now’s not a good time to be rehashing old shit. Sometimes it still burns.

 

* * *

 

“You know you can take more than two bites to finish a burrito, right Dude?” Sam asked. The look on his face was half impressed, half disgusted. “Chipotle burritos were meant to be appreciated, not swallowed whole like a zombie with a severed limb.”

 

Sam was a good partner. He had a good 6 inches and 30 lbs of muscle on Stiles. He could outrun just about any perp they had come up against and had a decent mind for making connections. Meaning as a team, they had solved more cases than 95% of their precinct. The serious puppy eyes Sam could throw didn’t hurt either. Those eyes had kept the Captain off their backs more than once. People just liked him. He’d smile a little, shrug his shoulders and Stiles and Sam could practically get away with anything.

 

“Whatever dude," he said while still chewing his mouthful, grabbing his soda to wash it down. "We’ve got 2 hours till the end of shift and I’d like to get started on the seven reports we’ve got backlogged.” That’s the thing about being a cop that they don’t tell you. _Reports._ Just... no.

 

“At least the Jenkins report should be quick. Probably that cat again,” Sam offered, taking another bite of his salad bowl.

 

Stiles hated and loved getting called out to the Jenkins residence. Mrs. Jenkins was a 75 year old widow with three kids who had all moved out of the city. She always brought them inside and offered coffee and cookies when they showed up. And they showed up often. At least once every two weeks, Mrs. Jenkins called the station to report suspicious sounds outside of her town house. She said she thought it was a prowler.

 

It was the neighbor’s cat in her garbage. It was _always_ the cat. Stiles had written this report so many times, all he had to do was change the date and time and it was solid.

 

“I’m just saying, we could take a little time with our dinner. Stay out of the cold a few minutes longer. I’m talking to someone about the heat in the car when we get back. I swear, my fingers never thawed out entirely tonight.”

 

“Alright, alright. Take your time princess, I have to check my messages anyway.” Stiles pulled out his phone and froze. Holding it in front of him like an artifact from a museum, staring at the first lines of the text notification.

**Dad (8:27)**

**You need to come home. There’s been an ac…..**

 

The text window cut off the rest of the message. Stiles would actually have to open it if he wanted to read it. He just kept looking at the first lines.

 

Sam looked up from his food when he noticed the stillness in his partner. “What’s up dude? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

Stiles shook his head and shrugged “Yeah, no. I just. It’s nothing, just a text.”

 

“Last night’s booty call?” Sam chuckled. Sarcastic grin stretching across his face.

 

“Yeah, your sister said to tell you hi” Stiles joked, the phone still held in front of him. He rested his arms on the table and considered the benefit of opening the rest of the message now, or waiting till he got back to his apartment. Deciding on apartment, Stiles pocketed his phone and grabbed his soda.

 

“Funny. Seriously, who was it? You didn’t look happy.” And there, right there. The puppy eyes. Right now, Stiles hated those puppy eyes. His partner cared. And caring wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but at this moment Stiles just wanted to finish his shift. Not have a heart-to-heart in the middle of a busy Chipotle restaurant.

 

“It’s nothing. Family stuff. Finish your food man, I want to go home.” Stiles collected their garbage and got up to throw it away and grab a refill on his soda. They were back in the patrol car in five minutes and back in the precinct in another 15.

 

An hour into the reports, the desk sergeant called back to tell Stiles that he had a visitor waiting up front. Stiles looked up from the computer and tried to stretch around to see who but couldn’t make anyone out. Still, it was odd. People don’t come looking for him here. Well, there was that one time with the crazy girl he took out for drinks then back to his place. It had been fun. She was cute, energetic, and loud. Very loud. She was also a stalker with a kink for first responders. So there was that.

 

Stiles got up, automatically checking his service weapon on his right. His left hand went to his pocket to the small bag of mountain ash he kept there at all times. Just because NY was surprisingly _not_ a haven for the supernatural, Stiles didn’t take stupid chances.

 

For the second time that day, Stiles couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move either, frozen mid step facing the front doors.

 

Dark hair. Check. Green, blue, whatever the fuck color they were, hazel eyes. Check. Stubble that looked rough, but Stiles had firsthand knowledge of being incredibly soft. Check. Derek Hale. Fucking check.

 

And Stiles could breathe now. One long breath. In. Out. Another, in. Hold. And out again. And there. There was the anger. Within seconds, his stance changed. He had a life here. He had friends, an apartment, a good job. But standing in front of him was the person that represented the home he ran from four years ago.

 

He wasn’t some scared little 17 year old kid anymore. Hadn’t been for a while.

 

“The fuck do you want?” Spoken low, barely more than a murmur.

 

“Stiles.” Derek’s face looked like the same blank mask Stiles had seen countless times before. The only difference he noted was the slightly parted lips that had breathed out his name.

 

“No really dude, what do you want?” The desk sergeant looked up at the two of them with a half interested expression. Stiles moved forward and twisted his body until his face was out of the sergeant’s line of sight. He had no intention of having an audience for this particular reunion. Hell, to be honest, he’d rather skip this reunion altogether.

 

But if this Derek was anything like the Derek from four years ago, he wasn’t going to be leaving until they talked. Fuck it.

 

“Look, I’m done here in another two hours. There’s an all-night diner a couple blocks down. I can meet you there after my shift.” That was the truth. There _was_ an all-night diner down the road, and Stiles _could_ meet Derek there in a couple of hours. This, of course was in no way an indication that Stiles actually planned on showing up. He didn’t.

 

Derek looked down for a moment, then back up. His face hadn’t changed. “I don’t mind waiting, it’s okay.”

 

Stiles wanted to punch him. Instead he spoke quietly under his breath. Quiet, but in no way kind. “It’s okay because you say it’s okay?” He tilted his head forward like he was waiting for an answer. He wasn’t. “I’ll be done here in a couple hours. You can wait at the diner. It’s named ‘Sal’s’. Written in a giant-ass, ugly neon sign. You can’t miss it.”

 

The werewolf nodded his head, eyes giving away a hint of something more. There and gone. Well, Stiles was happy to see some things never change. Derek was still the lost boy with a thousand walls no one had a hope in hell of getting past.

 

He let out a huff and an eye roll, then turned back toward his desk. If he took an extra 15 minutes proof reading each report three times, well, he was known to be thorough.

 

Stiles clicked submit on the last report and heaved himself to his feet. God, he needed his bed right now. He was a little glad that they’d been too busy to stop for food until their shift was practically over. He hadn’t been at the time, but right now all he wanted to do was put on a pair of sweats and crawl under his comforter to pass out for the next six hours at least.

 

He changed into street clothes with the lethargy only someone who’s worked a fourteen hour shift can appreciate, slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out to the street.

 

The street where Derek Hale was waiting, leaning against the building.

 

Stiles looked at the sky and slumped his shoulder forward in defeat. A long sigh escaped. God. He was seriously too tired for this. “I thought I said I’d meet you in the diner?”

 

Derek pushed off the wall and came to a stop a few feet away. “Yeah. I figured that was just a way to get rid of me. I didn’t think you’d actually show.”

 

He shot a quick, rueful grin out to the street. “Been working on your strategic planning, I see.” He kept his gaze forward, it would be too much to look at the former alpha right now. Which pissed him off a little. Stiles had spent years convincing himself he was over what happened back then. But here Derek was, bringing it all rushing back in.

 

Stiles shook his head. “Look. It’s late. Well, late for me, anyway. I’m tired and I can’t do this right now. I appreciate you’ve come a long way to… well I don’t really know why you’re here. But I just can’t get into this right now.”

 

“Do you live around here? I can walk you home if you want,” came the soft voice beside him.

 

Stiles’ head shot up in surprise, frowning at the wolf’s offer. It’s not that he cared if Derek knew where he lived, it was more that they were apparently just going to gloss over the fact that Derek had essentially cut ties with Stiles back then, and here he was trying to be soft… Stiles tried to summon the anger, but the exhaustion won.

 

“Whatever, man. I’m gonna head that way. If you want to walk the same way, well. It’s a free country and all that.” Stiles made a halfhearted gesture down the street. “Just don’t expect a lot of conversation. I’ve grown out of the ADHD for the most part.”

 

Derek smiled a little and let out a chuckle. “You had pretty much stopped rambling by the time you left anyways, so I thought you might have gotten over it.”

 

“No.” Stiles’ tone was firm and slightly bitter. “That was the crippling depression from losing every person in my life that meant anything. You should know. You were there to witness it first-hand. Look, I don’t…” He swiped a hand down his face. “I don’t want to talk about California. Or anything to do with that town and the people in it.”

 

They walked a few blocks down, made a few turns and were standing in front of Stiles’ building within ten minutes.

 

“Well,” Stiles started. “This is me. I’d say it’s been nice seeing you, but, well…”

 

Derek just smirked and shook his head. “Stiles, I really do need to talk to you though.” He looked down the street and back up to the step the young human was on. “Do you have any time tomorrow?”

 

Stiles studied the ground for a few moments. “Where are you staying? You got a place?”

 

Derek rolled his neck, then shrugged a shoulder. “No, not yet. You were my first stop when I got in.”

 

“Just…” Stiles let out a strangled sound, looking back at the main door to the building behind him. “Just come on. You can have the couch, there’s only one bed.” He turned to put his key in the lock, then led the wolf up three flights of stairs to his apartment, opening the locks, then fitting two deadbolt in place once they were inside.

 

“Kitchens there,” he gestured to his right as he led Derek inside. “Bathrooms down that hall. My room’s at the end. You can cook whatever if you’re hungry. Just don’t bother me if I’m sleeping.”

 

He grabbed an extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet. Tossed them over to Derek. Then left for his room, gently closing the door behind him. He didn’t look for Derek’s reaction, just changed into sleep pants and threw himself on the bed. He was out within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke to the feeling of hands on his shoulders and a strong weight pressing him into the bed. The sounds of someone shouting his name came to him around the same time as he felt a chill across his skin.

 

The voice was Derek apparently. Stiles wanted to curl into him like he used to. Derek had stayed with Stiles after everyone else had left. Well, he’d stayed for a while at least. Longer than the others, longer than his own father.

 

But Stiles wasn’t in his father’s house in California. And Derek wasn’t the person he turned to for comfort anymore.

 

He was aware that he’d had a nightmare. He knew he felt chilled because the sweat had soaked clear through his shirt. If this had happened back then, Derek would already be up getting him another shirt to change into. Instead he was hovering over Stiles, hands still pressing his shoulders into the mattress, a look of fear and concern on his face.

 

Stiles looked up at him with a blank stare, “You’re out of practice,” he croaked out. “Let me up, I need to get changed.”

 

Derek backed off, but stayed on the bed. Watching as Stiles rolled himself off the opposite end and moved toward the dresser along the wall. He pulled open a few drawers, grabbing a new shirt, sweats, and boxers.

 

Closing the drawers, he turned his face to the side. Not quite looking at the werewolf on his bed, but enough that it was clear he intended to address him. “I thought I told you not to come in here while I was sleeping.”

 

Derek quickly stood from the bed and walked closer. “You were screaming. I didn’t think you‘d still have nightmares.”

 

Stiles turned to look at him, face a mixture of anger and mistrust. “It’s been four years. Why would you think you know anything about my life?”

 

Derek dropped his gaze. Stiles huffed out a breath and shook his head, then turned to make his way the bathroom for a shower. By the time he was done he could smell coffee and food being cooked in the kitchen. He walked around Derek at the stove, pulled the milk out of the fridge, and went about fixing himself a cup of coffee.

 

The shower had helped relax him somewhat, but his hands were still shaking occasionally. He wrapped them around the mug as he sat down at his small breakfast table, and turned his gaze to watch Derek cook.

 

“Do you still like your eggs scrambled with ketchup? I’m almost done with the sausage from the fridge.” Derek didn’t turn to look at him, just calmly opened the carton of eggs sitting on the counter.

 

Stiles sighed. “Yeah. That’s fine. There’s bread for toast too, if you wanted any.”

 

Derek nodded his head, still focused on the meal prep in front of him. He moved the sausage to a plate and started cracking the eggs into a mixing bowl.

 

Breakfast was a silent affair. Derek set down two plates of food, going back to the fridge only once for the ketchup.

 

Finally Stiles’ curiosity got the better of him. He was pretty much done with the food anyway, and wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with this whole picture of domesticity. “So how long are you here for anyway?” He pushed the plate away as he spoke and leaned back in his chair.

 

Derek looked up at him and swallowed the bite he’d just taken. “I’m here to talk to you and see an alpha for a favor, so however long that takes I guess.”

 

Stiles furrowed his brows, head tilted to the side. “I didn’t know there was one. This place seems pretty much free of the supernatural, all things considered.”

 

The werewolf chuckled and ducked his head. “Not really. This city’s crawling with them, they just know how to stay under the radar.”

 

With a halfhearted shrug, Stiles rose to take his plate to the kitchen. He scraped the leftovers in the trash and set his plate in the sink for later. Derek followed, but stood at the sink like he wanted to start cleaning, causing Stiles to try and smother a smirk from forming. Derek always was a clean freak.

 

“So why’d you want to talk to me?”

 

Derek studied him for a moment, then gestured towards the table with his head. “Can we sit back down?”

 

Stiles’ posture straightened. Well this is probably going to suck, he thought. He took a deep breath and watched Derek’s face closely to see if he’d give anything away. There was nothing. He relented and returned to the table.

 

“It’s about…” Derek started, then faltered. “Stiles… After you left, not too much later, Scott started changing.” He noticed the small flinch from Stiles at the mention of his former best friend and lifted his eyebrows in question. Stiles waved him on. “He wasn’t ready for the alpha power or status. I’m not saying I was much better. But whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he got paranoid. Like I was trying to take it from him.”

 

Stiles was not finding this update on the Scott show amusing in the least. And he was sure his face reflected that. But Derek continued.

 

“We saw a little of it when he turned Liam, but this was worse. Theo had him convinced that everyone was out to get him. He even attacked Liam at one point. The kid found me at the loft, he was cut up pretty bad. They were alpha wounds, so they took a while to heal. After that Liam started hanging out at my place more. Which only made things worse with Scott. He had shut us all out by then. Convinced we were after his alpha status.”

 

Derek looked over to the living room for a while. Sitting in silence, looking at everything, but Stiles was sure he wasn’t actually seeing the apartment.

 

“Then Theo attacked Scott. There were those doctors in masks that we’d been dealing with for a while, you know. So when Theo made his move, we were all pretty distracted.”

 

Stiles snorted and shook his head, smiling bitterly. “Well gosh…” Sarcasm heavy on each word. “It’s too bad that there wasn’t anyone warning you that Theo was evil from the moment he showed up…” His face turned to one of mock surprise. “Oh wait! There was someone. Me. I was the one who told all of you not to trust that piece of garbage. But none of you believed me. You all said I was paranoid. Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

 

Derek let out a long sigh and looked at the table. “Stiles, I trusted you. It was just tha-”

 

“It was just that you didn’t believe me.” His tone was final. There wasn’t the smallest chance of an argument. Derek’s silence confirmed it.

 

“I was wrong,” he said quietly. “I knew I was wrong back then too. I should have talked to you more. Told you I believed you.” Stiles scoffed at that, but Derek pressed on. “The week that I spent with you in your house, I tried to get through to you. But you were hollow. Then one night I got stuck at a pack meeting, and by the time I made it to your house you were gone. I waited for you, but you never came back.” Lips pressed together, like they could somehow stop the past from having happened in the first place.

 

“Well I’m sorry, Derek.” Stiles was done with people expecting him to sacrifice his own mental health so their lives could continue on as normal. “I’m sorry the shock of my best friend since I was a kid kicking me to the curb, followed up with my father abandoning me was a little much at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t stick around so I could get up every day and realize that it wasn’t another nightmare, that I was actually ghosted by the people I loved. By the last of my family.”

 

“I didn’t abandon you, Stiles,” Derek whispered, then cleared his throat and continued, “Maybe I should’ve talked more. But I didn’t abandon you.”

 

Stiles shifted in his chair then lifted one arm to wave the conversation away. “Yeah, well…” He ran a hand through his hair then dropped his arm to the table. “Anyway, back to Scott. So he was being a little bitch and got himself attacked…”

 

“We got rid of Theo, but it wasn’t the same. The pack wasn’t the same. No one trusted each other really. Another alpha came to town, attacked Liam when he was on his way to see me. I heard the fight and went to help. I killed the alpha.”

 

Stiles’ snapped his head over to Derek, staring intensely. “Does that mean…”

 

And there it was. Derek let his eyes bleed red right there at the kitchen table. “Yeah.”

 

“Huh.” Stiles was stunned. After all the shit Derek went through, he always thought he made a decent alpha. Maybe not the best with the communication skills, but not everybody could be. And Derek, more than most, had a reason for trust issues. But overall, he was a good alpha. “I bet that didn’t go over well with Scotty.”

 

Derek chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, “No. No, it really didn’t. The past few years, he’s been a more than a little adversarial. Liam asked to join my pack. The other’s followed. Scott spiraled out more and more. He didn’t leave for school like Lydia. And Deaton took off, so he was living with Melissa, not really doing much.”

 

Derek cleared his throat and leaned forward on the table. “But then last week your father and Melissa were talking about moving in together permanently, and selling the other house. And Scott… he lost it. We weren’t there, and… well your parents couldn’t really control an alpha werewolf when they’re like that.”

 

His mouth was open, but the words had stopped.

 

“I got a text from my dad yesterday. I haven’t read it, but…” Stiles took a moment to find the right words. He needed to ask the right question. “How bad is it?”

 

Derek looked up, shaking his head slightly. “Melissa’s in critical. They don’t know if she’ll make it. Your dad’s healing. It’s slow-going, and he’ll probably walk with a cane for the rest of his life. But he’s going to be okay. Chris took Scott. He’s been in town for a while. My pack has an alliance with him, but he’s holding Scott right now. He’s given us two weeks to come up with a solution, or he’ll kill him.”

 

“And you want me to what? Come back and find a way to fix it?” Stiles wasn’t trying to be an asshole on purpose, but what did they think he could possibly do to help here. “Dude. I don’t know what you guys think I can do with this, but I got nothing.”

 

Derek shook his head. “No. No I’ve got that covered hopefully. There’s an alpha here, Garroway. He should be able to help, or at least have somewhere to confine Scott. The pack here has an agreement with the hunters in the city. They’re not like the hunter families you’ve seen. They’re a different breed altogether. But they’re fair for the most part. If we can transport Scott to New York, they should be able to take him.”

 

“Then why did my dad say I needed to come back?” Stiles really wished he’d open the message now.

 

“Stiles, we all want you back.” Derek sent him a small smile. “But I understand you’ve built a life for yourself here. I wouldn’t want to mess that up for you.”

 

Stiles wasn’t going to consider the possibility of uprooting his life again. Not a chance in hell.

 

Derek placed his hands flat on the table. “But I didn’t just come for that. With the pack heading off to college, most are already gone, there’s really nothing keeping me in Beacon Hills. Lau- Laura and I came here when we left the first time. I like the city, it has good memories for me. But I wanted to talk to you before I talk to Garroway.”

 

Derek cleared his throat again. “I was planning on getting his permission to relocate. But I needed to know if you were okay with that first.”

 

Stiles was speechless. Permission. Derek, an alpha werewolf, had come to New York to ask Stiles for permission to move here. What. The. Hell?

 

“Derek, you don’t need to… I mean, if you want to move here… there’s really nothing I could say that matters one way or another.” He got up from the table to pour another cup of coffee, then stayed in the kitchen while Derek studied his hands at the table.

 

“I guess I just wanted to see… I mean if you and I coul-”

 

Stiles waved a hand in the air. “Derek I’m gonna stop you right there. Either move here or don’t, that’s entirely up to you. I don’t factor into that decision making process.” He leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee. “But it sounds like you have a very busy day ahead of you with this alpha, and I’ve got a few errands to run since it’s a day off for me. So how about you take care of that, and if you decide to move here and we see each other around, well… okay. And if not, then that’s that.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

 

Derek rose from the table and studied Stiles for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” He moved into the living room to put his boots on and came back to the kitchen. “Stiles, I am sorry for what happened before you left. For the way it happened. I hope… I hope I can… Well. See you around, Stiles.” He walked to the door, unlatched the locks and quietly left the apartment.

 

Stiles waited for a moment then emptied the coffee cup in the sink. He rebolted the door on his way past then wandered down the hall to his bedroom. God, it was way too early for this. The errands could wait for tonight, Stiles was going back to bed. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been three weeks since Stiles saw Derek. With the shiftwork though, it felt like a lot longer. Stiles had put the blanket and pillow away when he woke up that evening and washed the dishes in the sink. He'd gotten rid of the evidence and sometimes it felt so surreal that he wonders if Derek was ever really there.

 

He didn’t hate the alpha, though he had been angry for so long that Derek had chosen the others over him. What he’d said about coming by that night, the night Stiles had left California in the dust… It kept scratching at the back of his mind. Some nights, the ones where he and Sam were pulling third shift, Stiles would get home and sit out on the fire escape while the city was just starting to wake up around him. But for about an hour, he’d have the stillness and calm of the night to himself.

 

That’s when he let his memory take him back to his last week in Beacon Hills, the week Derek had kept him company in an empty house. The wolf had cooked for him, cleaned around the house, sat with him when he didn’t want to get out of bed. He’d actually forced him up one morning to go to school, saying that the sheriff had been getting calls about Stiles' lack of attendance. It’d hurt to be reminded that his father wasn’t speaking to him anymore, but it had also been a breaking point.

 

Stiles did go to school that day. It was the last day he did. He’d talked to one person the entire school day. Danny. Somehow, he still isn’t sure how, he convinced Danny to hack into the school records and transfer his enrollment to an online home-schooling program. He was a few months away from being 18 anyway, but he didn’t want to wait. It was convenient timing too, because Stiles was gone two days later.

 

It was a text message that did it. Well, a text message and a phone call. The call had been from his dad. Stiles had just finished the profile page on the home-school’s website when his phone rang. It hardly did that anymore, so he was frozen for a couple seconds. But when he looked at the screen and saw it was his dad calling he got a little nervous that he’d somehow found out about the school transfer and was calling to tell him it wasn’t going to happen.

 

He’d answered the phone with shaking hands. “Hey D-Dad.”

 

“Stiles what are you doing getting Derek Hale to make excuses for you?” Came the stern tone of his father. No. Of the sheriff. “He’s talking to Scott right now, trying to convince him that you deserve another chance. I swear to god, Stiles. Derek is a good kid, you don’t need to be getting him involved with this.”

 

Stiles’ hands were trembling now, not just shaking, and he could feel the sharp pinch of the muscles in his shoulders. “Dad, I… I don’t know wha-”

 

“No Stiles. I may have covered for you before so my only son doesn’t end up in prison for murder. But that doesn’t mean that you get to drag other people down into your mess. Leave him out of it.”

 

The line disconnected as the sheriff hung up. Stiles felt his eyes watering and dropped his phone to the floor in order to use both hands to scrub his face. He felt stupid for thinking his father cared about whether or not he was still enrolled in school. Hell, it probably didn’t even occur to him to check.

 

He felt the weight of the empty house as he gingerly sat down on his bed, swiping a stray tear away. He probably needed to eat, it was already late afternoon and he hadn’t had anything yet. But the hunger and the motivation to get up never came. He shouldn’t just sit here, he thought, but he couldn’t come up with a single thing he wanted to get up for.

 

It was the text nearly two hours later that did it. His phone beeped from the floor where he’d dropped it. Stiles watched it for a while, like it was going to magically move on its own. It didn’t. He stood on shaky legs and crouched down in front of it, nearly falling over.

 

The notification was from Scott. He swiped the screen open and read the text. Then reread it over and over again until the words blurred in front of him.

 

**Scott (23:28): stp tlkng to my pk. derek dsnt believe ur lies n e more he nos u killd donovan. lve him alone.**

 

The tears had stopped a long time ago, somewhere around the hour mark on the bed. And there were no more left over for the text anyway. Stiles wasn’t sad, exactly. That wasn’t the right word for it. It had been happening a lot lately, the feeling of sadness settling deeper. Evolving into a different feeling altogether. More like the absence of feeling.

 

There were times when Stiles knew he had been staring at the same spot for hours, didn’t matter where, and he knew time was passing but he just couldn’t summon the energy to care. Sometimes he was aware of Derek being there, calling his name or just sitting beside him. But he couldn’t bring himself to snap out of it. Interacting with anything external would force his brain to start working again, which would bring nothing but a feeling of being sad and alone. So he stayed in that strange place where he didn’t have to think about anything, where he didn’t have to feel. It was like being drunk, but better. Drunk people still had feelings.

 

This time though, this time he tried getting up and moving around. The lack of feeling stayed with him as he did, and Stiles would have smiled at the success if he’d been capable of it. He packed a few bags with clothes, shower things, his electronics, pop tarts.

 

A quick look at the app on his phone showed his account balance was more than enough for the next few months if he stayed in cheap hotels the entire time. A few swipes later and the funds were transferred into a private account that Danny had set up for him. An account that only he had access to, instead of his dad. Even in this state, Stiles knew to plan for contingencies. He didn’t want to think that his dad would restrict access to his money, but he was still 17, and this was ‘technically’ running away from home.

 

Plus it gave him more anonymity. His dad didn’t know about this account, and wouldn’t think to try and track it. He’d be fine for the next few months. When he turned 18, an inheritance would be coming to him. He’d already set it up with the firm to deposit the money into his new account, so he should be good after that.

 

He took the bags to the jeep and went back to take a look around his room. It looked the same as it did an hour ago, even though he’d taken what he needed. The pillow. He’d forgotten to take the pillow. Grabbing another bag he stuffed in the pillow, and some towels too, now that he thought about it. Some blankets wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

 

In the end, Stiles left his home with seven bags and two boxes. One box for the books from Deaton, one box for the herb and potion collection he’d started. He thought about leaving his phone, but it was also what he used as his wifi, so he turned it off and stored it at the bottom of his backpack.

 

He made it all the way to the middle of Nevada the first night. Well, day, since the sun had already come up by the time he stopped. But the distance was good. The detached feeling hadn’t gone away entirely, but he liked to think that the air in Nevada was easier to breathe than anything he’d experienced in California.

 

Over four years had passed since that night, and Stiles was disappointed he could still remember it with startling clarity. But the scratching feeling in his brain was persistent.

 

One night, sitting on the fire escape, he decided to look at it like a case. God, why hadn’t he thought of that before? It was easier to look at everything if he removed himself from the situation entirely, think about it like it had happened to someone else. Go over the witness statements. What had Derek said when he was here? _“…I believed you… when I came by that night….”_

 

Stiles was absolutely sure he remembered things exactly as they happened, but he also knew witness’ accounts were notoriously unreliable. That only increased with time. Was Stiles a reliable witness?

 

What were the facts? What was the actual evidence? Derek’s presence in the house for a week. Derek talking about school, indicating he’d been in contact with the sheriff. Phone call from Dad telling him to stay away from Derek. Who then didn’t show up around nightfall when he normally did. Text from Scott telling him Derek thought he was a liar and a murderer. Derek standing in Stiles’ apartment three weeks ago saying he had believed him, and that he did come by that night.

 

Okay. So if those were the facts, where was the source? Stiles remembered Derek staying in the house with him. They slept in the same bed each night, it was the only thing that let Stiles actually sleep to be honest. He knew that happened. Just like he knew he got a call and text, and that Derek hadn’t come over that night.

 

But Stiles hadn’t been there the entire night. He was gone by 8:30 at the latest. It was possible…. So Derek’s eye witness account places him in the Stilinski house that night, and the timelines could potentially match up since Stiles hadn’t stuck around long enough to be able to verify or discredit the story.

 

Which left the part about Derek believing Stiles was telling the truth back then. Derek said he believed him. Scott said he hadn’t. Not for nothing, but if this were a case he was looking at today, right now, he would have already thrown Scott’s statement in the bullshit pile.

 

He watched the sky turn a light grey with the early morning. Cars were starting to move on the streets below as people were leaving their apartments. And he realized in that moment that Derek had been telling the truth.

 

It didn’t change what happened. It didn’t change anything about the way things went down with Scott and his dad. Stiles couldn’t control that, and neither could Derek. But it meant Derek had believed him, he had chosen Stiles. And Stiles, not knowing that, not understanding that was what happened… Stiles had walked away.

 

He didn’t feel regret for his decision; it was the best thing he could have done for himself at the time. He couldn’t feel bad about the life he had built here in New York. It was a good life. Sure, he kept people at a little bit of a distance, but he had friends, he had a good job where he contributed to the safety of his community. He had a decent apartment, and he could pay his bills.

 

He climbed back inside the apartment and picked up his phone from the kitchen table. He scrolled through his contacts until he reached Derek’s number. He didn’t know if it was even Derek’s number still, but he pressed ‘call’ and put the phone to his ear.

 

It rang four times, and then a groggy voice answered. “Stiles?”

 

“Hey… Hey, yeah it’s me. Sorry I didn’t think about the time. You can go back to sleep.” Stiles ducked his head. He felt, well not nervous exactly, but there was a little anxiety. This would be the first time in forever that he spoke to Derek without an ounce of anger to fortify himself.

 

He heard a rustling from the other end of the call. “No that’s okay. I’m up. I’m glad you called.”

 

Stiles nodded to the empty room, a smile threatening to take over his face. “Derek.”

 

“I’m here, Stiles.” His voice was warm, like he might be smiling too.

 

“You, uh. You… Just.” He didn’t know what to say. There was so much, but he didn’t know where to start. Then it came to him, “You believed me.”

 

A long sigh came from Derek’s end. “Yeah,” he said, voice trembling slightly. “Where are you?”

 

Stiles looked around himself. “In my apartment?”

 

“Are you sure?” The alpha chuckled, “Cause it sounds like you’re not sure.”

 

Stiles huffed out a laugh. “Yeah I’m sure.” He was grinning now. He missed Derek. All those nights spent thinking he’d abandoned him like the others. And here he was talking to Stiles, laughing, like it could all be forgotten. Stiles wanted to forget that it happened too. If Derek was offering a way out, he wanted to take it.

 

“I can be there in thirty. If.. If that’s okay?” He sounded unsure, but hopeful at the same time.

 

Stiles took a deep breath, let it out, then answered in a whisper. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and followed with, “I mean I haven’t slept yet, and I just got off shift a couple hours ago. So I’ll probably pass out, but yeah. If you want.”

 

“I’ll be there in thirty,” Derek assured him. “Don’t drink anymore coffee. I’ve barely slept anyways, we can crash if that’s what you want.”

 

He really was grinning now, and there was a lump in his throat from the anticipation that kept him from responding right away. “Yeah. I’ll see you in a few.” The call disconnected and Stiles turned to watch the sky lighten outside his window, the morning had officially begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles woke to a line of heat along his back and his upper body pushed face down in the pillows. Derek. He always  _did_ run hot during sleep. Stiles had missed this, and he hadn’t even taken a moment in the last few years to realize how great it’d been. The warmth relaxed his muscles and let him stay in a peaceful headspace. Whether he was asleep or just dozing, Stiles stayed calm. It was honestly better than any sauna or spa.

 

He shifted one leg up and felt an arm tighten along his waist. “No,” came the grumble from behind his ear. “Stay there. M’comfortable.”

 

He chuckled a little. “Dude. In like, one minute, this bed is about to get very _un_ comfortable if I don’t get to go take a piss.” He tried to roll over to face the alpha and was about halfway successful. He considered it a win. “Is that something you want to happen?”

 

“Ugghh.” Derek rolled away onto his back, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes. “I forgot how disgusting you were in the morning.”

 

This time Stiles let out a full laugh as he got up, taking advantage of the giant octopus of a bedmate releasing his tentacles. “And I forgot how much you liked to cuddle in your sleep. Besides,” he continued as he walked out the door to go to the bathroom. “It’s not disgusting. It’s reality.”

 

Derek let out another grumble from the bed, obviously not awake enough to engage in ‘real-people’ conversation yet.

 

Stiles finished up quickly then came back to kneel on the mattress, hovering over Derek’s face. “You awake yet?” He smiled down at him.

 

Derek reached one arm up to wrap around Stiles’ hip, “No,” and tugged him back down. Stiles fell onto the alpha, and was quickly maneuvered back into a little spoon position, except this time he had a werewolf rubbing stubble into the side of his neck.

 

He squirmed and struggled against the tickling sensation, shifting on his back enough that he could see the wolf was pleased with himself, even if he was keeping his eyes closed.

 

He settled into the embrace and sighed in contentment. “You planning on staying in bed all day?”

 

“Hmmm,” came the reply, eyes still not open. “You have work?”

 

Stiles lifted a hand to play with the hair on the arm keeping him trapped. “Nah. I got two days off, then one of the guys wanted to pick up another shift, so really, I have three.”

 

Derek was silent, like he was on his way back to sleep, so Stiles continued – a little louder.

 

“But I’m hungry, and there’s no food in the fridge. So I’m gonna have to get up soon and do some shopping if we want to eat.”

 

“Pop tarts,” came the reply. The only indication that Derek was awake and listening.

 

Stiles laughed. “No, I finished those yesterday. Seriously, there’s like, no food here.”

 

Derek rolled to the other side of the bed, let out a dramatic huff, and pushed himself up to stand. He stared down at Stiles, “If you’re getting up, get up. You win, we’re going shopping.” He sounded pissy, but that was how Stiles knew he was his normal, awake self. Angry Derek would have been silent. “And I’m taking one of your shirts.” The wolf crossed the room to the door, then called back, “And socks.”

 

They finished up morning routines, Stiles yelling into the apartment when he found his toothbrush was already wet, and left for the nearest grocery store. Halfway there, Derek changed course and started leading Stiles further away from the apartment.

 

“Dude what the hell? Where are you taking us, the foods back that way,” Stiles complained as he tried to keep up.

 

Derek noticed and slowed down, throwing an arm along Stiles’ lower back to keep track of him. Stiles knew he just like the closeness. Derek actually craved physical touch. Not from everyone, not from most people really. But when it came to people he trusted, he was actually pretty tactile. Wolves were like that with family, with loved ones. Stiles had felt awful when he realized how many years Derek had gone without a single person touching him without it being due to torture or manipulation.

 

His last year spent in California had taught Stiles exactly how isolating it could be without any form of physical comfort. He and Derek had seemed to quietly acknowledge this need in the other, and neither shied away when one of them would reach out.  

 

Derek kept his arm in place as they turned down another street. “Today’s Thursday. There’s a farmers market not that far from here.”

 

“Dude. We’re going to have to carry it so far though.” He pressed his side a little closer against Derek. “We’re not even near my place anymore.”

 

He looked over to find Derek smiling into the crowd, “Don’t worry, I’ll carry the eggs in case your arms give out.”

 

Stiles squinted his eyes at the insinuation and muttered unkind things under his breath.

 

“What was that?” Derek ducked his head over to the side and ran his nose along Stiles’ temple without breaking stride.

 

“Nothing! I said nothing.” Stiles’ voice raised with the denial. “But maybe we should stop to buy one of those rolly cart things.”

 

Derek snorted and kept walking.

 

The farmer’s market was fun, Derek looked like he was in his element the whole time, and Stiles didn’t drop the eggs on the way back. They did, however stop to buy insulated bags for some of the food. Stiles argued that the weather was chilly enough that they probably didn’t need them. Derek explained that they could be used when the weather got warmer too, so they were a solid investment. Plus, they needed bags anyway.

 

Stiles smiled to himself at the thought of shopping with Derek being a common enough occurrence in the future that the alpha was planning for it to happen months down the road.

 

They picked up some lattes for the way back, walking in companionable silence. Derek had his arms full with the food and coffee, so did Stiles. So the closeness from the morning wasn’t the same. But they made up for it with the occasional soft nudge and bump from shoulders or elbows.

 

Derek cooked brunch once they got back. The quiet being broken when Stiles brought up the fact that Derek had been in New York, 30 minutes away no less, when Stiles had called him last night.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded while chewing a bite of his spinach omelet. “I went back for about a week. Settled some things and packed up the loft. I gave the keys to Liam, but he’ll be out here for school by January. He’s transferring for the spring semester.”

 

It’s not that Stiles was jealous of Liam, and he certainly didn’t have any kind of claim on Derek, but this was the second time Derek had brought the young werewolf up in conversation and hinted at a bond between the two of them.

 

“So…” he drawled suggestively, but also with a hint of curiosity, “You and Liam…”

 

Derek’s fork hit his plate with a clang and his face had a look somewhere in between admonishment, disappointment, and amusement. “No. Stiles, no. There is nothing going on between me and the pup. He’s a good kid, some anger management issues. But a good kid who just needs someone to look out for him.”

 

He ducked his head and picked his fork back up when Stiles raised his hands in the air and shrugged like he was dropping the line of thinking. “I’m his alpha,” Derek said softly. “It feels kind of nice to have a beta need me to be that for them. To want me to help.”

 

“Yeah, dude. I’m sure you’re great at it.” Stiles was feeling a little contrite that he’d come anywhere near making Derek question his ability to be a good alpha. “Liam’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Anyways. So you got a place here already?”

 

Derek folded back into the conversation, letting go of any tension built up over the last few minutes. “Not yet. I’m staying with that pack I told you about. Working with them too. They’ve got this massive construction project going on that I’ve been helping out with for the last week.”

 

Derek finished up his food and carried their plates into the kitchen. He got started washing straight away while Stiles leaned back in his chair.

 

“Construction?” He frowned slightly at the same time as a smile danced across his face. “Huh. I mean, I can see it… but I kinda want to actually see it with my own eyes, ya know.”

 

Derek sent him a grin from over the sink. “That hard up to see me without a shirt?”

 

Stiles stuttered out nonsensical noises, waving his arms around outrageously, clearly flustered. Derek just laughed.

 

“Yeah, but it’s actually been nice. Manual labor’s always a good way to get stress out. And I’ll talk to the alpha about you coming by for a visit. The wolves aren’t used to humans knowing about them though, so I don’t know.”

 

“Hey, if it’s going to cause problems for you I don’t need to be there. Really,” Stiles insisted as he got up to move to the couch, grabbing the remote on his way.

 

Derek set the plates in the drying rack and grabbed a dishtowel for his hands as he followed Stiles to the living room. “It’s not that. I already told Luke about you, that’s the alpha.” He sat down in the corner of the couch and placed Stiles’ feet in his lap, hands resting on the ankles to keep contact. “When I first got back, I wasn’t sure you wanted to speak to me at all.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Stiles whispered.

 

“Hey, no.” Derek squeezed his feet. “No, Stiles you were upset. I get why, I never blamed you for that. You built a life for yourself, and I showed up and messed with that.”

 

Stiles looked up at him and said with a quiet seriousness, “Yeah but Derek… I’m glad you did. If I never saw you, if you never came to find me, I would have gone on thinking that you were like them, that you didn’t care… I’m happy you came.”

 

Derek crawled over until he was stretched out along the couch beside Stiles, playfully shoving his head over on the pillow to make room.

 

“Ugghh,” Stiles protested “Don’t jostle me, I’m still digesting.”

 

Derek laughed, “I told you two omelets were too much. But thank you for that. It’s been…” He sighed and looked away. “It’s been hell without you. Everyday. I told Luke everything before I came out here. Told him I wanted you to be part of my life here. He didn’t say it was a deal breaker.”

 

Stiles shifted slowly, turning his face into Derek’s chest. “Is that what you want? Me to be in your life?” His words were muffled by the shirt, but they were clear enough.

 

Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles’ back and pulled him in gently. “Stiles, I just got you back. If you think I want to walk away now, you’re stupid.”

 

They stayed on the couch for a while until Derek’s phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and read through the incoming text, keeping the arm he’d shoved under Stiles wrapped behind his shoulders to keep him from falling off.

 

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked quietly, knowing Stiles was close to sleep.

 

“Nuthin, why?” Stiles cracked his eyes open slightly to look at Derek.

 

“Well,” he went to look at the text again, maneuvering both hands to the phone in order to text something back. “Luke just asked if I wanted to come by the district to meet his business partners. Well, his business partner and the guy’s boyfriend. Apparently they’re cooking dinner tomorrow night.”

 

Stiles had closed his eyes, but his eyebrows shot up. “Free food? Cause it’s a yes if it’s free food.”

 

Derek chuckled and sent another text. “God, you’re worse than a five year old.” He tossed his phone on the coffee table and settled back down.

 

Stiles threw an arm and leg over him and relaxed himself, but Derek noticed tension coming back after a few minutes.

 

“Hey, what is it?” His hand had started to rub circles into Stiles’ back.

 

Stiles was quiet for a few minutes, but then, “So what… whatever happened with Scott?”

 

Derek hummed and tightened his grip. “The hunters here have the resources to confine the supernatural when they’re out of control. Scott’s with them. They didn’t kill him. And they probably won’t. But I don’t know if he’ll ever get out of there.” He settled on his back, dragging Stiles over his body, and pulling the blanket off the back of the couch to settle on top of them.

 

“It was bad, Stiles. I mean Peter was bad. But he was legitimately crazy, you know. Scott… I don’t know. He just… It was like he just snapped. When he attacked your parents, it was still him. It wasn’t like he was under the influence of anything. He just…” Derek trailed off for a moment, remembering. “So yeah, he’ll be with the New York hunters for a while probably.”

 

Stiles was quiet for a while. “And Melissa? My dad?”

 

Derek had started the soothing strokes along Stile’s back again. “Melissa pulled through. She’s stable, but still unconscious. Her face and neck though… Well. She’s going to be covered in scars even if she does wake up. Your dad started physical therapy to get him walking again, but the docs weren’t hopeful he’d be out of the chair anytime soon. They had to say it was a mountain lion attack. The slashes looked like it was an animal.”

 

“But why didn’t they turn?” Stiles frowned into Derek’s neck. “Scott was still an alpha. And Peter said claws can turn someone if they’re deep enough.”

 

Derek brought a hand up to run it through Stiles hair. “It wasn’t his intention to turn them. That’s what I was saying about it still being Scott when he snapped. He was still in there. He made the conscious decision that night to kill, not to turn.”

 

Stiles lay boneless on Derek, silent. Eventually he muttered. “Let him rot in there.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t want them to kill him. I know my dad was pretty shitty, all things considered. But he’s still my dad. And Melissa never treated me bad outright, she didn’t deserve that. Let him rot in there.”

 

Derek let a soothing rumble start in his chest. His hand kept up a steady movement through Stiles’ hair, down the back of his neck, across his shoulders, then back up to start the cycle over again. Stiles was out within minutes. But Derek stayed awake long enough to see a text from Luke come in saying they would be happy to meet Stiles when Derek brought him by tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in seeing Derek's handoff of Scott to the Shadowhunters, you can find that in Chapter 14 of Unsteady: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12071253/chapters/28552480


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet our new players, and Stiles has some help uncovering some MAJOR revelations about himself.

Stiles studied the layout of the area Derek was driving him into. The sun was setting and most of the district was already covered in shadows but he could still see the buildings were in the remodeling stages.

 

“Which part are you working on?” He asked without turning to look at the alpha.

 

Derek turned onto a street that looked a little more finished than the rest. “I’m about two blocks over from here. They’ve got apartments going up that two full packs are on, but I’m on the townhouses with a smaller pack from upstate.”

 

Stiles hummed and nodded his head in acknowledgement. He redirected his gaze to the front windshield when he noticed movement in his peripheral. Ahead of them stood a tall man with dark skin. Attractive, muscled, and smiling as he waved them over. Derek pulled the cruiser over to the curb.

 

It took a minute, but Stiles finally figured out what was odd about this particular building. Snow. There was at least two feet of snow inside the fence line of the entire lot. The rest of the district was completely absent any of it. He did a quick check as he exited the SUV, then another. Yup. That was odd.

 

Derek greeted the new man with a handshake and led him over, “Stiles this is Luke, the alpha I told you about.” Luke held his hand out as Derek settled his arm over Stiles’ shoulders pulling him in a little closer.

 

“Stiles,” he greeted as he took in the new alpha. “What’s with the snow?”

 

Luke let out a deep laugh, “Yeah, don’t mention that to Simon, he’s still bitter.” Stiles cocked his head to the side in confusion, so Luke explained. “Before the snow fell there was a disagreement between Simon and Magnus. Simon and I started the build, but it’s become something of a team effort at this point. Magnus is the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Most of the spells that happen here go through him, and they were working on one that would shield the district from the snow when it came. Simon said he couldn’t do it, so Magnus had the snow miss every part of the district except Simon and Raphael’s house.”

 

Luke gestured behind himself at the old brick firehouse, “They live here. We spend a lot of time here, but the top floor is their private residence.” The wolf started laughing again. “So Simon woke up that first day thinking the snow had hit the district, but then he looked out past the fence.” Another chuckle. “He hasn’t spoken to Magnus since. Makes me or Raphael pass messages along for him.”

 

Luke opened the gate to lead them up the walkway. “Is Simon another warlock?” Stiles asked.

 

“No, he’s a vampire.” Luke replied as he opened the door. Stiles stopped in his tracks on the steps leading to the door.

 

Derek started to rub a hand over his arm. “He’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”

 

“Yeah, I just…” Stiles shook his head and started forward again. “I just didn’t know vampires were real,” he hissed out.

 

“Oh we exist,” came a new voice as they entered the room. A young man, teenager really, greeted them as he approached from the open room to the right. “We just like to keep to ourselves as much as we can.” Stiles studied the new player. Expensive suit, dark hair, dark eyes, caramel colored skin, and a smirk. The kid was young looking, but carried himself with authority that made Stiles question whether or not his age could actually be judged on his appearance. “I’m Raphael. It’s nice to meet you, Stiles. Derek’s been talking a lot about you to Luke here. We’re happy you’ve settled things.”  

 

Stiles blushed as Derek pressed his chest into his left shoulder. He relaxed back into the touch slightly, eyes never leaving the vampire in front of him. “So vampires… That’s a new one for me. Do you guys age?”

 

Raphael smiled at him. “We get older, but no we don’t physically age.”

 

Stiles nodded, taking everything in. He looked back to Derek and found the wolf already watching him. “Raphael will answer your questions if you have more. He and I spoke earlier, I already told him your brain would probably be kicking into overdrive when you found out.” Derek raised his hands and squeezed Stiles’ shoulders in a comforting gesture.

 

“He’s right, I will. But let’s get you out of your coats, dinners ready upstairs and I have a fledgling to tear away from his music.” The vampire gestured to the entryway coat room as Luke came over to help with the hangers. Stiles watched as Raphael turned and walked across the ground floor to a darkened room in the back.

 

A minute later, he returned with a young man in tow. Actually the new guy was speed walking around the pool table in the middle of the room and coming to a stop in front of the group with a huge smile on his face. “Hi, I’m Simon. We’re really happy you’re here. I’ve been telling Magnus, well Alec has been telling Magnus – you’ll meet Alec soon, he and Magnus are coming to dinner too. Anyway, we’ve been telling him that there are decent mundanes that can be an asset to the downworld for a while now. I mean, I was a mundane not too long ago and that was fine. I was fine. Well, I was turned into a vampire, but I was fine before that. So, yeah. You’re here! That’s great!”

 

Stiles glanced to Raphael and caught the soft amusement on his face before he ducked his head, then looked up at Derek, “Is that what I was like?”

 

Raphael and Derek both laughed at that. Derek leaned forward to whisper in Stiles’ ear, “Worse.”

 

Stiles raised his eyebrow in shock then held a hand out to Simon. “I’m Stiles, and very human. I guess mundane means human here? So yeah, that’s me.”

 

Simon shook his hand, smile never leaving his face, then tugged Stiles along towards the stairs. “Come on, there’s food upstairs. Let’s get you some before Luke wolfs it all down.”

 

Raphael shook his head slightly and closed his eyes at the bad pun from his boyfriend. “I hope he never changes, but sometimes…” he smiled over at Derek, who smirked in understanding.

 

The five of them took a seat at the long, wooden table that dominated the dining area upstairs. Luke had already started plating his food and Simon was bringing two mugs over to the table for the vampires as the air in the room changed and the sound of wind could be heard from the ground level.

 

“Alec, we’re up here!” Simon shouted as he took a seat next to Raphael.

 

Stiles noted the sound of footsteps clamoring up the stairs and turned around on the bench to watch a tall, dark haired man with bold tribal looking tattoos spread out across pale skin, approach the table. “God, yes. I’m starving. Magnus said a snack would ruin my dinner, but I haven’t eaten in hours.”

 

He took the open seat next to Simon, across from Stiles and immediately started filling a plate with food. Another creak on the stairs had Stiles turning once again to take in a man with honey colored skin, beautiful but extravagant outfit and a ton of jewelry. Stiles noted that he had the same air of confidence that Raphael had earlier and wondered if this was another vampire.

 

Whatever he was, he had zeroed in on Stiles as soon as he reached the top step. The man’s eyes squinted, and his head tilted a fraction to the side as he studied the human before him. Derek noticed Stiles tense up and stretched an arm around his waist, shifting him closer.

 

“Magnus, this is Stiles and Derek.” Raphael announced from his seat, eyes lifted in silent communication to the man standing in front of them.

 

Magnus smiled, “Yes, of course. How rude of me. I hope you’re enjoying your evening.” He walked around the table, running a hand along Alec’s shoulders, and took a seat on Raphael’s other side. “So Simon, I hear we’re getting another six inches tomorrow night. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

 

Simon grumbled into his mug then turned to his right. “Alec, tell your boyfriend that I’m not speaking to him. But if I were, he can go to hell.”

 

Raphael chuckled into his own mug and looked up to Luke and Derek with a small grin. Alec lifted his head, still chewing his food, “Wha?” He rolled his eyes. “Magnus come on, you already won. Stop tormenting Simon with the snow.”

 

“Darling, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I was merely commenting on the beautiful winter weather headed our way.” Magnus brushed off as he snapped his fingers and food appeared on his plate.

 

Alec snorted and went back to his plate. Simon looked up at Stiles and smiled again. “So how long have you guys lived here, years right?”

 

Stiles swallowed his own bite, “Yeah, I got here just over four years ago. Derek used to live here before that, but he just came back, like, a week or two ago.”

 

“Four years. How old are you?” Simon asked.

 

“Twenty-two, I turned eighteen right after I got here.” Stiles leaned into Derek a little and scooped another bite onto his fork.

 

“Were you studying to become a druid before you came?” All eyes turned to Magnus at his question. He was studying Stiles again.

 

“No I, uh….” Stiles grabbed his glass for a quick swallow. “I knew a druid, and he taught me a couple things. But I wasn’t trying to learn full-time or anything.”

 

“Interesting.” Magnus murmured. “I looked at your file. There are a few… incidents… I would like to talk to you about.” The warlock kept his gaze on Stiles, not even touching his food.

 

“My file?” Stiles coughed in surprise and grabbed his glass again. “You have a file on me?” He asked after a few generous swallows.

 

Derek rubbed comforting strokes on his upper back and leaned forward. “Why didn’t I know about this?” His tone was bordering on distrust.

 

Luke leaned his elbows on the table and turned his head toward Derek. “The Shadowhunters put together a file on all new players. It’s what we looked at when you first asked to relocate.” He shot an exasperated glance over at Magnus, who simply rolled his eyes before returning his attention to Stiles. “We only have the file on you, but Stiles was included in your time in California. There’s a few areas that sparked Magnus’ interest.”

 

Stiles snorted and huffed out a quiet “ _Sparked_ …” around a sarcastic smirk. Magnus noticed and continued to watch the young human, eyes squinted.

 

“Is that a term you’ve heard before? Spark?” The warlock was keeping his voice calm, careful of touching on sore spots in the boy’s past. He was familiar with sarcasm being used as a method of deflection when thing started to get too personal. It was a technique he employed often.

 

Stiles stayed calm, but started playing with the glass in front of him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “The town Druid called me that once. It was a long time ago, though. He never brought it back up.”

 

Magnus smiled in gentle encouragement. “But it stayed with you. Why was that?”

 

Stiles looked over to Derek. He could tell the wolf would take him out of there right now if that was what he wanted. But these people weren’t being threatening. Sure, they had a lot of power between the lot of them, but they’d done nothing but welcome him so far. And Simon seemed cool. He had a youthful energy that Stiles missed, but pretty cool so far. The vampire and Alec were both sending him twin expressions of hopefulness, so Stiles felt encouraged to share a bit of his past.

 

He pushed the plate further up the table and let his forearms rest on the edge. “There was this one time, when we needed to surround a building with a barrier to keep supernatural creatures inside. Deaton, that’s the Druid, gave me a bag of mountain ash and told me if I believed it could be a barrier, then it would. But before I could finish the circle, I ran out of ash.”

 

He looked to Derek again and the alpha nodded for him to finish. “I felt so stupid at the time, but I saw this bumper sticker on one of the cars that said something ridiculous about imagination, and I remembered Deaton saying something like  _‘Be the Spark’._ So I just imagined I could do it, I guess. When I looked up again, the barrier was in place.”

 

Stiles looked down at the table as Derek pulled him in closer to his body. The alpha gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and commented on Stiles story, “I found him in the parking lot after that. The barrier was solid, but I needed to get in so Stiles knelt down, waved his hands, and the line broke itself.”

 

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and got up to sit at the head of the table, off to Stiles’ left. He scooted his chair closer to the human and held out his palms. “Stiles, I would like very much to hold your hand.” Derek pulled tighter on Stiles’ shoulder, letting out a low growl. “It’s nothing bad. I just want to check something and this is the easiest way.” The warlock lifted his gaze to the wolf holding onto Stiles. “It won’t hurt him. I promise.”

 

Derek pressed his chest along Stiles’ back and slid an arm around the front of his waist when Stiles shifted one leg over the bench to face Magnus head on. “You don’t have to,” he whispered into his ear.

 

“No it’s okay. I’m okay.” Stiles sent back over his shoulder. He lifted one hand and placed it between Magnus’. Immediately, a blue smoke engulfed his hand, then his arm. It turned into tendrils that traveled the entirety of Stiles’ body. The wisps of smoke seemed to notice Derek’s arm and traveled up and around it for a moment before refocusing on the human.

 

Within minutes the blue smoke had settled around Stiles’ hands and face. Alec sucked in a gasp from across the table and whispered “His eyes…”

 

Derek was losing any patience he had and wrapped both arms around Stiles waist, tugging him backwards, practically in his lap. “What is this? What’s going on?” He placed a gentle hand along Stiles’ jaw, uncaring of the smoke still dancing around it, and turned his face towards himself. “Stiles…”

 

“This feel’s strange Der…” Stiles spoke slowly, but a smile was creeping across his face. “Like there’s so much energy. I feel really awake.”

 

Derek knew how important that one simple thing was to Stiles. After the possession, Stiles was terrified of going to sleep, afraid that if he did, the demon would take over again. He’d told Derek about being in a constant state of fear every time he felt tired. Even months after it was over, being tired still triggered a thrum of panic throughout his body. If Stiles said he felt awake, then Derek knew he wasn’t scared.

 

But his eyes. Derek couldn’t get over the eyes. They looked like a cat’s eyes, except they had a beautiful mixture of red, yellow, black, and gold. Derek smiled at the boy and lifted his hands to frame his face. “Stiles, your eyes. They’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered.

 

Stiles smiled and held onto Derek’s arm. “I can’t see them.”

 

Magnus spoke up from behind Stiles, reminding the two that they weren’t alone. “Do they look like this?” Stiles turned to face the warlock as he let his eyes shift into their own cat-like appearance. A quick look back at Derek and further to Luke confirmed that the two wolves in the room thought they were the same. Magnus snapped his fingers and the blue mist disappeared.

 

“But what…” Stiles abruptly got up from the table. He looked across at the rest of the dinner party, they all seemed as surprised as he was. “What does that mean?” He asked as he backed away from the group.

 

Derek rose and held his hands out to Stiles as he slowly approached. “Stiles look at me. Everything’s fine. You’re still Stiles. You’re still you.”

 

He knew he was shaking his head but accepted Derek’s hands on his arms, pulling him into his chest. “You’re okay.” The werewolf was speaking softly in his ear while a low rumble started up in his chest, calming Stiles instantly. He spared a thought to how Derek must be training him into some kind of Pavlovian response with the purring thing soothing his anxiety. “We’ll deal with this like everything else. I’m not leaving you, we’ll do it together.”

 

Stiles nodded and dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder, hiding his face in the alpha’s neck. “Dude…” he sighed out. “I went so long with everything completely normal, now I have vampires and warlocks and my eyes changing colors.”

 

Derek dropped his own head and whispered an apology. “Hey, no.” Stiles put a little distance between their upper bodies, grasping Derek’s arms and squeezing to get his attention. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? I told you I was happy you found me and I meant it.” He tilted his head closer until their foreheads were pressed together. “You called me stupid for thinking you wanted to leave less than twenty-four hours ago. Don’t be a fucking dumbass and think I would let you walk away now.”

 

Stiles smiled as Derek huffed out a laugh into their small shared space. The alpha circled his arms around Stiles’ waist and lifted his head to place a small, chaste kiss on his forehead. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, then turned to the table. They had an audience. Great. “So what does this mean?” He asked the warlock again, this time with a lot more confidence in his voice.

 

Magnus stayed seated but turned to silently question Raphael and Luke. Both of whom shrugged and shook their heads. Magnus turned back to the pair still standing away from the table. “Stiles, I’m going to ask you a sensitive question. This isn’t meant to offend you. But is it possible…” The warlock looked to Derek quickly, then back to Stiles. “Is it possible your father is not your biological father?”

 

“What? No. Of course he is.” Stiles’ expression showed a refusal to believe anything different.

 

Magnus appeared to be trying to find the right words and Derek’s patience was already thin after the emotional upheaval he and Stiles had already experienced tonight. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“It’s just that… Stiles, warlocks all carry a mark. Something we can hide, but a mark that shows exactly what we are. It’s not always the eyes, but it’s always there.” Magnus didn’t make a move to get up, somehow knowing a seated position would be less threatening, making his words more accepting. “Your eyes are like mine. And other warlocks carry their marks because our fathers are… Our fathers are not from this plane of existence.”

 

Stiles watched as Simon leaned into Raphael. The older vampire soothing the young man by running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t enough though, and they all watched as Simon rose from the table, walking away into a living room area. They heard him exit the firehouse onto what Stiles could only imagine was a patio area since he couldn’t see around the wall.

 

Raphael rose after they heard the door shut. “My apologies. But he turned not too long ago. Watching a mundane become a downworlder is more than likely bringing up some bad memories. If you’ll excuse me.” He left in the same direction Simon had disappeared to, and Alec called for him to wait as he joined he two vampires outside.        

 

Luke had gotten up when the others left, but he stayed in the room. He just moved to the other side of the table, taking Alec’s abandoned spot. Derek nudged Stiles and they walked back over, taking their original places. Stiles refused to let go of Derek’s arm, and it didn’t seem like the wolf minded in the slightest.

 

“What aren’t you saying?” Stiles asked the warlock and wolf sitting at the head of the table. “You’re trying to talk around something, even though you’ve basically told me I’m a warlock. Which, dude, no I’m not. I think it would have come up before now, honestly. But there’s something else. What is it?”

 

Magnus turned his attention to the table for a moment, then back to Stiles. “I like you. Even though you know this will be difficult, you still want to hear it.”

 

Stiles snorted, “Man, hearing difficult things about myself is kind of like the story of my youth. It’s fine, just tell me.”

 

Luke spoke up in a commanding but gentle voice. “Your file, well Derek’s file, mentioned a possession.”

 

Stiles tensed, but waved a hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.

 

“I think Magnus was trying to be sensitive to the fact that you’ve had a very personal, very traumatic experience with a demon.” Luke cocked his head towards Magnus who returned a tight-lipped smile. “This is not a reflection on you Stiles, but warlock children are only created from a human mother and a demon father. This is not the same kind of demon you’ve had contact with. These are higher demons. They look completely human and can be very charming.”

 

Stiles watched Luke, then Magnus. They appeared to be sincere, genuine. He considered the information he’d been given while he looked over the forgotten meal on the table. They all gave him as much time as he needed to process, no pressure. Finally, Stiles sighed and tossed his head back. “God, I need a drink.”

 

“Oh thank you, boy. I thought you’d never ask.” Magnus breathed out in relief. A quick snap of his fingers and there were tumblers of a whisky colored drink in front of each of them.

 

Luke chuckled from his spot. “That’s what was missing. I’ve never seen you go so long in a serious discussion without a drink in your hand.”

 

Magnus waved him off, “Nonsense. Don’t go spreading lies about me to my new protégé.”

 

“Protégé?” Stiles questioned. “I’m not… So it is true then? I’m actually a warlock? But how?” He twisted his neck to look at Derek. “I’ve never… the mountain ash.” He quickly looked back to Magnus. “Was it the mountain ash?”

 

“That’s what originally tipped me off.” Magnus nodded and downed the rest of his glass, quickly summoning a refill. “But you felt different to me as soon as I stepped in the room, so I knew there had to be something.”

 

Stiles frowned at his own drink. He needed to learn that trick. “But how much can I do. Surely Deaton should have known about this. He’s a druid! Aren’t they supposed to feel the energies in a person, or whatever?” He was looking at Derek, but the question was to the whole table.

 

“About that,” Magnus spoke up. “Did you say Deaton? Is his first name Alan, by chance?”

 

Derek got interested at that, leaning forward on the table. “Yes.” He ground out, “You know him?” He noticed Stiles’ glass was empty and slid his own drink over to replace it.

 

“Alan Deaton, no. But Alan Deacon is a druid I’m very familiar with.” Magnus’ eyes flashed as his face took on a look of disgust. “Kidnapped a couple warlocks a few centuries ago. He was very _focused_ on acquiring their longevity. I lost track of him in the Caribbean. Looks like he might have made his way to California.”

 

Magnus noticed Derek’s barely concealed rage and nodded his head in agreement with the wolf. “Stiles, for your sake, it’s lucky you left that town when you did. There’s no telling what he had planned, but it’s a very good bet that it wouldn’t have ended well for you.”

 

“Yeah, speaking of that town…” Stiles looked at the drink in his hand. “Do you think…” He turned to look at Derek, blinking his eyes against the unexpected sting and continuing in a soft voice. “Is that why he… Is that why he didn’t want me? Because I’m not his?”

 

Derek looked heartbroken for Stiles. “I… Stiles, n-” He shook his head and scooted closer along the bench, bracketing Stiles with his legs. “You’re here now. Whatever was going through his head, it doesn’t matter anymore. You’re here and you don’t even have to think about that place. You never have to talk to him again if you don’t want to.”

 

Stiles sniffed away the emotion, nodding. “So what about my eyes?” He asked loudly. The group recognized a change of topic when they saw one. “They still look weird?”

 

Derek laughed and ran a hand over the top of Stiles’ head, manhandling it until it was tilted towards him. “Not weird, just different.”

 

Stiles grinned up at him. “No but seriously. Are they still the whole ‘warlock eyes’? Dude.” He sat up and looked over to Magnus in alarm, “Dude. I can’t be a warlock, I’m a cop.”

 

Luke bellowed out a laugh. “Yeah, try being a werewolf and a cop.” He grinned over to Derek and chuckled at Magnus’ smirk. “Take some leave. You got any sick days? We’ll get a doc to write you a note for strep or something. You can’t work with that and it’ll give you at least a week off.”

 

Magnus smiled across the table at the new warlock as he relaxed sideways against the werewolf’s chest. “I’ll teach you control for the next few days. Something tells me you’ll be a quick study.”

 

The sound of a door opening alerted them to the rest of the group returning from outside. Well, the door, and the sound of Alec complaining loudly about the cold, and Raphael telling him that if the cat can brave the icy weather for a hunt then the child of angels shouldn’t have any room to complain. Stiles wondered about the ‘angels’ part, but decided to pass on bringing it up.

 

Simon spotted Stiles as soon as they entered the dining area. “Sorry about that. I just… Well, I didn’t mean to be rude.” The young vampire said quietly as Raphael rubbed his back.

 

“Nah bro, you’re good.” Stiles waved away the apology. “No hard feelings.”

 

Alec patted Simon’s shoulder on the way past and took a seat next to Luke. “So what did we miss?” He asked the table. “You a warlock yet?”

 

Luke chuckled into his drink as Raphael looked heavenward in exasperation. Stiles let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He lifted his own drink, well Derek’s appropriated drink, in the air. “I guess I am.” He turned to Derek, “You about ready, big guy? I don’t know if I can take anymore revelations for one night.”

 

Derek nodded and blinked sleepy eyes back at Stiles as he stood from the table, reaching a hand out to help Stiles do the same.

 

“Oh, wait,” Simon rushed to the kitchen and pulled out Tupperware, “Leftovers. You guys should take the leftovers.” Raphael laughed when Alec watched forlornly as the food started disappearing into plastic containers, then a bag that Simon handed to Derek. “Raphael loves to cook, so there’ll be plenty more where those came from. Sorry dinner got ruined with all this.”

 

Stiles sent Simon a quick smile, “It’s all good dude. Nothing was ruined, and I got food for the next…” he looked in the bag, “two days at least. And that’s counting this guy eating half of it.”

 

Derek felt a small burst of warmth at the thought of spending the next two days with Stiles. They hadn’t exactly talked about it, but Derek had absolutely no desire to sleep anywhere that wasn’t beside Stiles. And, for his part, Stiles didn’t seem that inclined to let him leave his sight anyway. They’d need to talk about it soon. Maybe discuss getting a bigger place when Liam came out. But it was good for now. Derek was happy.

 

“Oh hey,” Stiles turned to Magnus. “I need your number for the training.”

 

The high warlock grinned and lifted his glass in a gesture to Stiles’ phone. “You already have it.” He sent a smug smile across the room when Stiles’ mouth dropped open in shock.

 

“Okay. I’m leaving now. Thank you all for having me. It was nice to meet everyone, but my brain is fried and I really don’t think I’ll survive anymore of this tonight.”

 

They left the firehouse with hugs (Simon and Luke) and handshakes (Alec and Raphael), and a wave from across the room (Magnus). It was late by the time they made it back to the apartment, so Derek put the food in the fridge as Stiles changed, cleaned up in the bathroom and dropped like a lead weight onto the bed. Derek took his time getting ready for bed, not at all surprised to see Stiles star fished out on the covers.

 

“Come on, under the blankets.” He maneuvered them until they were both under the comforter, Derek choosing to sleep on his side and wrap an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him closer. “Let me see again. Before you go to sleep. Let me see.”

 

Stiles cracked his eyes open at Derek as a soft, half-asleep smile stole over his face. Derek admired the gentle glow and spark effect the new eyes had. He didn’t think he’d ever get to see them enough.

 

He let his hand drift over the side of Stiles’ face and leaned forward to rub his stubble into the young warlock’s hair. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered. 


End file.
